


Shitty Shorts

by VersusBlue



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Murder, Gen, I feel like I have to call someone bi in every fic i write, Screenplay/Script Format, because I lost my braincells somewhere and I can't find them anymore, bi Church rights!!, feral simmons rights!!, grif says eat the rich, hot philosopher Grif rights!!, lots of random shitty shorts about nothing at all, mentions of quarantine and covid-19, mentions of unions, non-binary Tex rights!!, warning: long one-sided discussion of lots of things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VersusBlue/pseuds/VersusBlue
Summary: A bunch of short stuff. I'll be adding as I write them
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Pardner..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker has a question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue base is a mess

[ _Blue base. Tucker and Church are on the roof talking and looking around for suspicious red movements and whatnot. Tex is outside, possibly fixing Sheila for the nth time, Caboose is... somewhere_ ]

 **Tucker** : [ _breaking a temporary silence_ ] Hey, Church? I just noticed something. You always ask Tex what to call her. Why is that?

 **Church** : What? [ _Clearly lying_ ] I... I don't know what you're talking about.

 **Tucker** : Like, you always pause before calling her your girlfriend?

 **Caboose** : [ _shows up out of nowhere and startles the two_ ] OH YEAH, I notice you always ask her how to translate "partner" from cowboy language!

 **Tucker** : What the fuck is cowboy language?

 **Caboose** : Well, cowboys live in Texas, so they speak cowboy language in Texas, and Church said Tex is from Texas, so she speaks cowboy language. [ _Pauses like he just had a huge revelation_ ] Wait. Are you from Texas too, Church??

 **Church** : What. I mean, I am, but what the fuck. We don't speak cowboy. Cowboys haven't existed in like 300 years, what the fuck are they teaching y'all on the Moon??

 **Tucker and Caboose** : [ _shocked/disappointed_ ] Cowboy don't exist??

 **Tucker** : Wait, stop. You're helping him escape the question. Why do you never call her your girlfriend before asking first?

 **Church** : [ _sighs in resignation_ ] Well, you see... Sometimes, when a man and a woman love each other very much-

 **Tucker** : They fuck. Yeah, I've heard that one before.

 **Caboose** : [ _mumbling_ ] I hate that story.

 **Church** : Well, YEAH, but that's not what I was gonna say. What I was saying was. Sometimes, when they love each other very much, the woman feels safe enough to say... She's not really a woman.

 **Tucker** : So Tex is a guy?

 **Church** : No! Tex is... Non-binary. She's not a guy, and she's not a girl.

 **Caboose** : Ah yes, goth. The lost gender.

[ _Church and Tucker share a confused look_ ]

 **Church** : ... I don't even know how to respond to that. ANYWAYS, Tex likes being called "she", but not always. And she is ok with feminine descriptors, but not all of them, and not always.

 **Tucker** : Oh. [ _Pauses to think for a moment_ ] So... Does that mean you're kinda gay?

 **Church** : Bi. I'm bi.

 **Tucker** : And... Do you... Do you get pegged?

 **Church** : What?? That's. That's none of your fucking business.

 **Tucker** : [ _gives Church a disappointed noise, turns to where Tex is supposed to be_ ] HEY TEX!

 **Tex** : [ _gets a bit closer so they can talk without yelling too much_ ] What.

 **Tucker** : Do you peg Church?

 **Tex** : Do I what??

 **Caboose** : [ _he's now down where Tex is. How does he move without being noticed? No one knows!_ ] Peg. Like you fuck him instead of him fuck you?

 **Tex** : Oh, what the fuck. Who taught you that word?

 **Caboose** : Tucker did it.

 **Tucker** : For real though! Do you?

 **Tex** : Uhhhhh [ _looks at Church. He's shaking his head almost desperately_ ]... Yeah, all the time.

[ _Church facepalms_ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sad yeehaw noises] I'm sorry for the cowboys


	2. Big Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just Grif ranting. Or an exercise in how far I can get from a topic and then (vaguely) get back to it. Terrible to read, but really fun to think of. You should try this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm breaking his speech into a few paragraphs because if I don't not even I can read what he's saying.

[ _Red base. Grif and Simmons are on guard duty on the roof, as they usually are._ ]

**Simmons** : Hey.

**Grif** : Yeah?

**Simmons** : Do you ever think about the time?

**Grif** : Like in a philosophical way, or in a literal way?

**Simmons** : I don't know, humor me.

**Grif** : Well... I do sometimes think about time. What _is_ time? Is it a real thing? Is it just a construct of the human mind in an attempt to categorize the changes it sees happening all around? Do other animals have a notion of time like ours? I don't know, man. I'd say it keeps me up at night, but is night even a real thing? Why do we call it night even here, where it's sunny 24/7? What is it with us and perpetuating social constructs? Is it to try and make a glimpse of order in our lives, to feed some fake sense of superiority by having a notion of prejudice? Why do we perpetuate even the bad social constructs? And there's so many of the bad ones! You know, my sister used to be bullied in school because she was never a small and quiet girly girl. They were always like "are you a girl or a boy", "are you straight or gay", "are you this or not"...  
Why do we need to label everything? Why do we label even the labels?? We as a species thrive on order, and yet we create so much chaos. We start wars for so little! I mean, do you really think we'd be here having this conversation if humans weren't chaotic and destructive to the point of starting a war with aliens? Are we even here because of a war with aliens, or are we just here to secure our country's claim on a planet to exploit when they finish stealing the resources of whatever other planets are higher on their hypothetical list of "planets to exploit"?   
Do you ever think about that, Simmons? Do you ever consider the idea that they lied to us when saying why we were being sent here? And what else could they be lying about? Don't you think it's strange that Command never gives us proper instructions? What are they hiding? Are they buying time, stalling us to keep us from leaving the planet? What if the world outside is dying, and we can't know about that for some reason? What if we're sacrifices for something yet to come? What if we're somehow sick or infected with something that could kill the world if we returned?? We always make plans for surviving a zombie apocalypse, but we never consider we might be the ones to start it, _we_ might be patient zero!   
And if we are, what will become of our plans? Should we share them with the world so others can try and see if we had a good idea of what to do? Does allowing multiple people to know about the plan change its effectiveness? Just how many things become less effective and maybe even dangerous when they become mainstream? Do you think we ever lost technologies or recipes because of that? And how many more things have we lost because the methods or materials don't exist anymore? How much stuff we'll never have again, because of the natural flow or things, or because of capitalist greed? If we didn't perpetuate capitalism as is, we wouldn't be so trapped in this infinite maze of colonization and alienation and destruction.  
Do you ever think about how many cultures have been destroyed by the system we live in? You say you're Dutch-Irish, but I've never seen you do anything related to being Dutch-Irish other than yell "I'm Dutch-Irish". I mean, I can't say much, I'm pretty alienated from my culture too, but do you know anything about your culture, your family's origins? We as a society are alienated, distanced from our cultures, to become submissive servants to the greedy ruling rich. You know, in the old times, people didn't let the rich make them starve forever. They picked up tools and built weapons and got rid of their oppressors! But then things started to happen faster, and they made us forget about our feelings of dissatisfaction and rebellion by feeding us cheap entertainment and a fake notion of control over our lives. The world is moving so fast, and not in a "haha this planet's rotation is faster than Earth's" way. I mean, it feels like things happen more in less time. We're always busy! When was the last time you had time to just contemplate on things? It's like the rich got tired of stealing just our money and now they're somehow stealing our time too!!  
And would that be scientifically possible? To transfer time from a place or person to another? To store time like we store energy? Is time malleable? Can it be distorted like in movies to create faster means of transportation? Would that too be exploited by capitalism? Would it harm the natural balance of the universe and create an anomaly that could destroy us all? Could time itself be an anomaly? Something that the universe is somehow getting rid of as it grows, and that's why things feel so much faster than a hundred years ago? Will time ever cease to exist? And will life be there to see that happen? What happens if time stops existing? Does everything die? Does everything live forever? Does everything move on as if time never existed??  
I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night.

**Simmons** : Wow, that's... a lot. Not really what I expected from you at all. You really think that much from just a small question?

**Grif** : Yeah man, if you leave me alone with my thoughts for a day I'll have enough ideas to write a whole book. I'm like a Greek philosopher!... Minus the slaves and oppressed wives. And the small dick.

**Simmons** : [ _exasperated_ ] The what??

**Grif** : You heard me. Small. Dick. They turned all their meats into brains. I didn't. I know the importance of balance.

**Simmons** : [ _looks him up and down not discreetly at all. Looks away, blushing_ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot philosopher Grif rights


	3. Simmons' Incredible Murder Plans

Dear Diary,

Since that day however long ago when Grif's sister showed up and we buried Sarge and democratically elected me the new commander of the red team, I am craving the thrill of power that comes with authority. And of course, the best way to take power again is to kill Sarge for real. So here I am, making plan after plan, attempt after attempt, to put an end to his career.  
As you may recall, last week I tried to poison his meal. Unfortunately, Grif ate some of everyone's food before meal time, and spoiled the surprise. At least he got what he deserved and spent the rest of the day sick.  
I am trying to keep a random pattern of when I attack, so I've waited nine days before acting again. And today was day nine! So I have put some poison on Sarge's strawberry yoohoos supply. This way, there's no chance Grif will ruin my plan again!

Dear diary,

Apparently strawberry yoohoos seem to neutralize my choice of poison. I saw Sarge drink two of them in front of me, and he's still fine, so either the poison was neutralized or he noticed and somehow replaced his whole supply. Which is very unlikely, since Command never sends us good stuff when we need them. I need another plan.

Dear diary.

I have taken to the very predictable strategy of surprise attacks. In two days, I've tried to shoot Sarge while he was distracted five times. He somehow always manages to dodge my attacks at the last moment. This old man is harder to kill than he looks.

Dear diary,

I have not given up on the random attacks, nor on the poison. The more simultaneous attacks, the higher the chance of finding at least the tiniest opening, right? Right??

Dear deary

Remind me to never try to sabotage Sarge's shotguns again. I'd like to try something again soon, but it hurts too much to move when I'm not being ordered to. For now, we scheme.

Deary diar.

Have I told you about how impenetrable his defenses are? I feel like it's just completely impossible to kill him on my own!!  
But I don't need to do this on my own, do I...

Dear diary,

Plan B (b for "blue", get it? Hah!) failed. Why do they always think everything's a trap. I also tried to recruit Grif's sister while I was there, to no avail. Am I doomed to fail in every action I attempt?!

dear diary

What ever happened to the blue's tank.

Dear diary

I tried the Blues again. This time they let me speak. And eat. They made me have dinner with them. It was really weird. They're so... confusing. They heard my proposal, but rejected me. Well, shit. I am running out of ideas. And poison.

Deer dary,

I am out of poison. I have taken a knife from the kitchen and I've been practicing. If I can't shoot him, maybe I can cut him. There's no way he would ever be expecting that!

Deary

He was expecting that

Dear

Diary, I am still out of poison. Why does Command never send us things when we need them. I bet my new poison supplies will only arrive well after I complete or give up this quest.

Dear diary,

I am not gonna give up until I get his blood on my hands. I will hang his helmet respectfully near the flag, and I will leave instructions that the same be done with mine when the day comes that I am killed, for I am sure I will not die of natural causes or leave this outpost alive. I will have him dead. I will take his place as the rightful leader of the glorious Red Team, or I will die trying.  
In other news, I managed to hit him! It was just a scratch on his little finger, but that's progress!!

Dear diary.

I crave the thrill of battle, but no longer against Blue Team. I am invested in my battle for dominance. Every fight has my heart pounding! One of these days I'll catch him completely off guard. I know I will.

Diar dear

My poisons arrived!! I ordered more than one type this time, don't want to have the strawberry fiasco happening again! Time to make some more refined murder plans!

Dear diary.

Are you giving me away? I feel like my keeping there records is somehow giving away my murderous intent. I am not acting out of evil, I simply have no other way of acquiring the authority I crave. Doc says I should ask Command for a promotion, but I'm not that desperate. I think.  
... Am I?  
Never mind that! I feel like somehow Sarge always knows I'm up to something. I feel like someone is reading this diary. Dear diary... Have you betrayed me?

Dear Simmons,

I sure haven't. You should tone down the murder, by the way.

"GRIF YOU SON OF A BITCH, HAVE YOU BEEN RATTING ME OUT??" Simmons emerged from his room after reading the last entry, clearly not written by him. He knew Donut wasn't to blame, he never showed any sign of noticing Simmons' plans, and Sarge wouldn't write something like that. I mean, discouraging Murder? Not a Sarge thing. So unless a blue somehow broke into red base, read his diary, took his time to reply, and escaped unnoticed, that left Grif as the only logical culprit.

"Oh noo I've been found out!" Grif said sarcastically with a half laugh. "Nah, I'm not telling Sarge about your murder diary. You just... Reek of murderous intent, you know?

"WHat? No I don't!"

"Yeah you do. And your plans are too easy to see coming. You need more stealth!"

"I'm not taking murder advice from you!"


	4. Bathroom business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is very short and you might have seen it before if you've seen the depths of my blog. Most likely you haven't. Enjoy my shitpost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have to mention, this chapter is directly related to my facecanons. The blues have undercuts (Tucker's a full undercut, Caboose is only the right side of his head, same with Church and Carolina, Kai is the left side), the reds dye their hair to match with their armor (Carolina also has armor-colored stripes), and Wash dyes his hair yellow and does not have an undercut despite being in blue team.

[ _Blue base bathroom. Tucker and Caboose are shaving their undercuts, Wash is dying his hair_ ]

**Tucker** : Dude. Why do you even go through all the trouble? Just go natural.

**Wash** : [ _turns to stare at Tucker. Tucker is attempting to draw an energy sword in his hair_ ] ... Seriously? Seriously?? You're gonna say that when you've been trying to get that thing right for like two hours??

**Tucker** : [ _stops what he's doing with his hair_ ] Ok... But consider this: dying hair is red team bullshit. You're a team traitor and I gotta shave some sense into you. [ _Turns the shaving machine thing towards Wash, laughing evil-y_ ]

**Caboose** : [ _slaps Tucker's hand, making him drop the thing_ ] Tucker! Stop bullying him!! [ _Turns to Wash_ ] Wash please help me with my hair while you wait for your hair paint to dry. I think I fucked up a little.

**Everyone mentally, including the reds who are nowhere within range to have heard that** : Language!!


	5. It's the pandemics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another short one, but this time it's an original

[ _ Valhalla blue base living room. Tucker and Caboose are sitting in opposite corners playing a holographic card game. _ ]

**Wash** : [ _ walks in _ ] What the hell are you two doing?

**Tucker** : [ _completely serious_ ] Social distancing.

**Wash** : [ _ takes a deep breath _ ] Social distancing?

**Caboose** : You know, social distancing? Because of the pandemic?

**Wash** : The pandemic? The one on Earth?

**Caboose** : [ _ completely serious _ ] You can't know it isn't here yet.

**Wash** : The pandemic? The one our helmets that we wear at all times to be able to breathe in these alien planets filters out?

**Caboose** : ... Oh.

**Tucker** : [ _whispering out loud_ ] I told you he wasn't gonna fall for that excuse.

**Wash** : [ _ sighs, sits down _ ] I want to play too.

**Tucker and Caboose** : [ _look at each other with_ _ surprised happy faces, look at Wash _ ] Sure!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry to remind yall that the pandemic isn't over yet and everyone should social distance (and wear masks) whenever possible. We don't all have super high tech helmets to keep us safe.


	6. AU (Alternate Union)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to the bullshit!!

Church already woke up annoyed and sure it would be a bad day. It was the day Command usually sent them supplies or something, and he knew something not that fun would arrive today because Vic mentioned it would be an especially big drop. _Great_. The reds received their stuff first, a car that kinda looked like a puma, almost a week ago. And when the blue stuff arrived in the week's drop, it was...

"A tank! Which I told him was ridiculous, they could just put the guns in the ship, right? And then give us the ship! But the guy got all complainy, said something like 'ohh but how will _I_ get home then, if you get the ship?' I don't know, it's not my business. I was sent here to shoot people, not help you go home!... Anyways, that's like before the trip even started," The rookie had been talking nonstop since he got here. Didn't even introduce himself. Or maybe he did, and Church just didn't pay attention.

"Hey, rookie? Here's an idea for you: shut. Up." Church snapped.

"Wow, what's with this guy? Is everyone here this rude??" He turned to Tucker.

"Nah, Church is an exception. An exceptional asshole." Tucker laughed at his own joke. "But yeah, can you be quiet for a bit? I'm trying to calculate how many chicks I could pick up with this, and your voice is distracting my mental maths by putting dudes in there too."

"What difference does that even make?

"Guys take up more space and also might steal some of the chicks while I'm distracted, so. Shush."

"Oh, okay. You got it, man!" He finally shut up.

The day only got worse as it progressed. The rookie insulted his girlfriend, let the enemy rookie steal their flag, the reds cornered him and Tucker, Tucker said something smarter than him, and cherry of the cake:the rookie shot and killed him with their own tank. He came back as a ghost, which was not that bad, but definitely inconvenient. Oh, and the tank was destroyed, which sucked, but not as much as being a ghost.

For some reason, while he was trying to get a hang on this being a ghost thing, Caboose started to get closer to Tucker. Soon after his warning, Tex arrived.

"You, on the wall." She pointed to Caboose, voice deepened by the voice filter, and then pointed to Tucker. "You, report on the other base. Numbers, equipment, threat level... Everything." 

"Uh, sure. They have four... No, five guys, and now they have a jeep, and..." He stopped, noticing her about to shoot Caboose. "... Hey, Tex? I don't know what it was like in your other bases, but we're organizing a union here, and shooting others? That would be against the rules. So uh... Don't? Don't shoot him."

"Union?" Tex turned slowly towards him, murderous glare implied.

"Yeah, you know? Union? That stuff we workers form to get more rights and better work conditions and stuff?"

"... Seriously?"

"Yeah!" Caboose said, leaving his spot on the wall. "We want to make our work environment and experiences as enjoyable as possible, and we thought it would be better if we limited the amount of people that can harm us to only those on the other team, and..." He stopped, watching Tex leave. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Red base. Kill everyone. Get the flag back." Tex answered, short and serious.

"Oh, okay! We'll just stay here and... Not do that." He paused for a second, then turned to Tucker. "I don't think he likes our idea."

"Yeah, I noticed." Tucker said, a bit angry.

The two kept planning, and talking, and sometimes even refusing to work because "the Blood Gulch Blue Base Soldiers Union decided to go on strike" or something. Tex and the tank ("Sheila", as they all insisted) ended up joining the "union" too, making his life just that much annoying. It was impossible for him to get anything done as the commander of the base since the union took their own opinions as more important than his orders. They would even use it as an excuse to avoid mundane work or win arguments with each other. Blue base became chaos, and it was a miracle that red base neither defeated them nor joined them in their union bullshit. He had no authority, no one in the base liked him, even the tank was hostile towards him, and he did not want to try to befriend a red to make his life less miserable.

...

Church already woke up annoyed, sure that his day would be terrible, but then he smelled pancakes. He got up, and found Caboose and Tucker arguing in the kitchen, a pile of pancakes between them, and Tex still half asleep staring at a cup of coffee.

"Church! Good morning!!" Caboose greeted him with a big smile. "Church, please tell Tucker he has to cook breakfast too, I don't want to eat pancakes everyday and that's the only breakfast food I know how to make!"

"... Why doesn't the union tell him that?"

"The what?" Caboose gave him a confused look.

"Dude, did you fall off the bed and drop your brain when you woke up? What the fuck are you talking about?" Tucker mocked him, also not understanding what he was talking about.

"The... Wait. No, you're right, I must have dropped my brain. Tucker, why don't you cook me a new brain for breakfast tomorrow?"

"GROSS." Tucker complained with a laugh. "I'll just make some cereal milk like a normal person."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Church was the only one unhappy with the union, it made everyone's lives much better, Church is just a really boring extra bitter capitalist idiot who cannot appreciate good things (especially when they mean he no longer has authority over his team and/or life)


End file.
